Translucency
by Cerulean Pen
Summary: Twins are said to be only a medical advance away from cloning. But for two blonde teenagers, their bonds are about to extend even further then cloning. Sam/Melanie, non-slash, rather sad one-shot.


_Translucency_

_Summary: Twins are said to be only a medical advance away from cloning. But for two blonde teenagers, their bonds are about to extend even further then cloning. Sam/Melanie, non-slash, rather sad one-shot._

_English Tragedy/Family Rated: T Chapters:1 Words: Sam P. & Melanie P._

_**a/n: **__Well, I'm not exactly sure if this idea has been done before; I kind of doubt it. I love Sam and Melanie, and if you are a crier when it comes to sad fanfiction stories, then go ahead and get your tissues. No pairings (it really annoys me when stories go down a Seddie path, or a Creddie path), besides blunt Sam/Melanie. Enjoy._

_Three-twenty-eight. In the morning. Abruptly awaken by Evelyn Myers, who is shivering in the December chill, wringing handfuls of her cotton nightgown. Melanie Puckett brushes golden curls back, blinking rapidly, half-trapped in a frightening nightmare that continues to draw her muscles taut. Phone receiver thrust to her ear, sobs clutching her forearms to yank her from the tissue-paper-thin folds of unconsciousness. Carlotta Shay whimpers it in three words-no, four._

_"Sam is really hurt," she whispers, like speaking any louder will simply shatter the foundation of the universe and bringing the two of them crumbling down. Silence. Melanie can barely process the statement. It comes in a brutal punch to her chest, lungs buckling, ribcage splintering, heartbeat stuttering as she tears the blankets off, knocking Evelyn Myers right off her bare feet. "Melanie? Are you there? Melanie…"_

_Her name fades before it reaches her eardrums, drowned out by the gunshot of switching on the light, arousing her roommates. The sixteen-year-old's face is bathed in a most urgent luminescence, and she stuffs her feet into sandals in the dead of winter. "I'm here," Melanie interrupts, surprised by the detached insistence in her tone, "what happened to Sam?"_

_The question unleashes a fresh round of tears from Carly, and Melanie grits her teeth together, buttoning up her gray wool sweater over her nightgown. "She-she…" The words come in choked bursts, taking long enough for the other girls to soak in the emergency-filled atmosphere. Brielle Foster grasps her sleeve, but Melanie shakes her off, chocolaty eyes alit with rage. "She was in the elevator, the wiring…Sam, she was dropped, in the elevator crash."_

_Melanie clamps a hand over her chest, striving to inhale, bring air to her oxygen-starved body. All the aloof behavior towards Carly vanished, her typical sympathetic attitude replacing it, as well as a sense of grief and fear. "I'll be in Seattle soon Carly, just tell Sam to hang in there."_

_Images of Sam laying in a hospital bed, her heart monitor emitting an extended, shrill tone, blonde hair forming a fuzzy halo around her. And once again she's perfectly perfect Melanie Puckett, who remembers an umbrella and gets scholarship-worthy grades and is always Mommy's Favorite in a picture frame. If she could trade places with Sam she would, be the girl among rubble in the basement of Bushwell, eyelids fluttering. Her desires rage in a river of self-loathing, one that sweeps her down the hall, into Headmistress Lydia's maroon SUV, and towards Seattle Regional Emergency Room._

_:::::_

_The first thing Nurse Delilah sees is a stern-faced, stout woman, herding a lanky, golden-pony tailed, sweater and nightgown-wearing teenaged girl. She juggles a clipboard along with several other documents, out of breath, trying to keep herself together in the bustling medical center. "Uh, um, hi, can I help you?" Nurse Delilah asks pleasantly through gritted teeth, finally noticing the determined expression creasing the blonde's immaculate face. _

_"I'm here to see Samantha Puckett, I am her twin sister," Melanie explains impatiently, rubbing her arms. An unique frigidness roots itself in the center of her torso, impelling frozen blood cells through her veins. Maybe it's a twin connection, the mind-reading, the identical pain. If Sam dies, a part of Melanie will too._

_"Oh!" Nurse Delilah rips open a folder with her teeth, spilling ballpoint pens all over the sterilized linoleum tiles. "Yes, Samantha Puckett is in Room 190, on the second floor, intensive care unit. Go ahead up there."_

_Melanie leaves Headmistress Lydia in the waiting room, bolting to the elevator like her sandals are aflame. She's alone as she's carried to the second floor, panic pinching her nerves into paralysis. Sam is dying, Sam is dying, Samisdying. _The great, immortal Sam, known throughout the world, injured by a cruel twist of fate.

Sam is strong, tough, clawing her way past every obstacle with a fierce growl. Melanie always admired that in her, while she was a delicate rose, sweet but too weak to defend herself. In fact, she recalled a blurred memory from third grade, when Melanie accidentally spilt a jar of crimson paint on Thomas Berkley's drawing of a jet plane. His cobalt veins pulsated from his neck, and in a swift twitch of the hands, pushed her onto the floor.

Suddenly, Sam was on his shoulders, hands gripping his throat, shrieking at the top of her lungs as she strangled the thuggish boy. Sam had sacrificed her Art Class grade for Melanie. When they were younger, they spent countless nights underneath a purple quilt ("at least it's not pink," young Sam would comment), giggling while exchanging stories about classroom chaos. Despite their differences, Melanie and Sam were best friends.

Melanie reached the intensive care unit, and found Room 190, opening the door. Her mother instantly wrapped her into an embrace that was awkwardly unnatural from Pamela Puckett, who was moments away from tears. Pam had never cried once in her life. "Oh God Melanie, thank you, thank you, thank you for coming."

Pushing arms and soothing hands away, finding Sam, her gorgeous face covered in an oxygen mask, tangled curls splayed over her pillow. Heart monitor maintaining a steady rhythm. She almost seems daunting surrounded by these industrious machines, keeping the fabric of her life stitched safely together. Samantha Puckett was broken. Melanie runs fingertips over scars, gashes, lumps, bruises, breaks, casts, and Sam is like a cheap prop from a slasher film.

How she would love to tug her soul from her heart, place it into Sam's, give up a life to save one. If the doctors couldn't revive her, then her whole world would spill out into zero gravity, floating away and away and away from solid ground. Carly tackles her into a heart wrenching hug, joined by Freddie and Pam, and all this touching, feeling, enfolding, apologizing, it isn't doing anything for Sam. Melanie pushes them away, returning to Sam.

"Sam." Words as fragile as a thread of gossamer, but her buckling lungs calm at the name. Beautiful, resilient, spontaneous Sam.

"Are you Pam Puckett?" Spin around at an unfamiliar voice, gruff, like gurgling with gravel. Doctor Allen, clipboard in fist, hardly seeing past his bushy eyebrows. "I don't believe there's anything else we can do for Miss Samantha. She's burst a main vein leading to her heart, and the nurses have done everything they could to resuscitate. I suggest you say your goodbyes."

Everyone shifts their gaze towards Melanie, as if expecting her to throw a tantrum…just like Sam would do. She's strangely serene, standing amongst life-supporting machines with a nightgown for a skirt and hypothermia-white toes. Inhale shallowly, exhale deeply. "Mom. I need to talk to you about something." Whisks the eccentric parent into the hallway, and the door shuts softly, just a click, more terrifying then a deafening slam could ever be.

Carly holds Freddie's hand for the second time in her life, hoping that he'll keep her from floating away. "S-Sam's going to die," she murmurs half hysterically, flashes of tuna sandwiches and logos and couches and laughter and berating and Girly Cow and monitors and revenge and Sam liked to sleep, she'll get to do it forever now.

Freddie doesn't magically realize that he's in love with Sam; he still shudders at the image of them standing in a wedding alter. But the acidic strawberry of their first (and second) kisses burns his lips, and he doesn't know if he'll be able to go a day without hearing her put him down. He'd sacrifice all his technology to ensure Sam would make it through, arm hanging around Carly's shoulder, sipping a smoothie despite the doctor's orders.

There's a shriek outside the door. Shushes, Melanie nearly dragging Pam back into the hospital room with her eyes rubbed raw, like tears should fall. "Sam needs a new heart," Melanie announces, patting her chest for emphasis, garnering shocked expressions from her two dark-haired companions. "She's lucky to have a donor around."

Seized by Carly, pinned against the wall accidentally, every wisp of oxygen knocked out of her. "Melanie, you can't give Sam your heart! If it doesn't work, you'll both d-die." She has trouble choking out the last word, and Melanie shoves Carly right off of her, her loose hair spilling over her shoulders. Like Sam's. "Melanie! Please, it's not worth it! You dying won't help the situation."

"Carly!" She yells this, but the decibel decreases on the last syllable, tenderly placing hands on her shoulders. "Carly," Melanie coos mellifluously, "there's still a chance it might work. Without Sam, the two of you can't make a difference in the world of the Internet; she'll never grow up to be a ninja. Girls like Sam come once in a lifetime. Girls like me are a dime a dozen. Please let me do this Carly." So close she'll glaring right into her eyes, hot breath on noses. "Please."

"Okay," is all she can wheeze, before sprinting out of the room to find Spencer, who's juggling paperwork and a deranged mental patient in the lobby. Melanie sighs; Carly could've at least said goodbye. She takes a step, reaching out for Freddie, her very first kiss, his hair unruly from awakening to the news.

"Freddie? Will you…?" He leans forward, pretending that it's Sam he's about to kiss, making it three times. Three is a magic number. They need all the magic they scrounge up. Melanie presses her lips to his, knowing there won't be a spark. There never was. Just two hormonal, emotionally unstable teenagers in a hospital room. Foreheads pressed together, heavy breathing, too feeble to stand alone. "Thanks."

"I guess this is goodbye," Freddie mumbles, and Melanie shakes her head, pointing at Sam.

"She'll always have me in her heart," Melanie says with a wavering smile, and as doctors take her away to be cut open and taken apart, she swears she sees him peck Sam on the cheek, watching despondently as they wheel her away.

"You're positive about this?"

Melanie has answered the question a million times, and this is just a million and one time more. "Yes Mom. I really hope you know that I love you." Pam sets two fingers on her daughter's wrist, feeling for the pulse the last time. Carly, Freddie, Spencer, Gibby, and a girl she doesn't even know, all crowding around her gurney. "This isn't goodbye."

A doctor wades his way past, strapped a mask over her mouth and instructing her to breathe in deep. A wave of colors overwhelms her for a moment, but afterwards, everything is so glistening, glittery beautiful. "I love you all," Melanie Puckett giggles, her eyelids growing heavy, and she's floating on butterfly wings out of reality, past the heavens.

There's one last glimmer. The last thing Melanie sees is Sam sprawled over a stretcher, chest rising and falling.

Melanie laughs in a burst of sunlight, a brilliant flash before her world goes dark.

THE END

(of Melanie Lillian Puckett)

THE BEGINNING

(of Samantha Hazel Puckett)

-**fin- **


End file.
